The Dancing Courier Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya make a last minute courier run in North Africa. pre-saga


"Chuggadiggidiggi **-** diggidiggi-chuggaschagadada...diggididiggidi-dumdumdum."

The playing of the Bandir and Doumbek drums created an interesting and lively rhythm for the onlookers who waited in anticipation.

Seated at a table to the side of the dance floor was a dark haired man dressed in a grey suit, definitely not a local; he was well groomed foreigner. Beside him sat a blond, his hair longer and slightly unkempt. He'd removed his black jacket and tie; the top button of his white shirt was undone. He was looking uncomfortable in comparison to his companion.

Their eyes were focused on a woman who'd just stepped out to the middle of the floor.

Aziza, the talented belly dancer would perform tonight, among other things...

She was lithe, an olive skinned beauty scantily clad in sequined pale green robes. Her face was masked with a diaphanous **veil** held in place by a glittering **silver** brooch, yet her green eyes were mesmerizing to everyone who'd given her their full attention.

She circled around the floor; her hips undulating in time to the drum beats while her hands moved seductively, circling above her head.

As the dance continued the drum beats became faster and faster creating a controlled frenzy for the girl's movements.

Her eyes were now on Napoleon Solo and she shimmied her way over to him, jingling as she moved. There were small tinkling bells on her ankles adding to the music of the drums.

When she finally reached him, she drew one of her delicate veils from her hip and wrapped around the American's neck.

She rocked her chest in front of him, jiggling her ample bosoms, so much so that they seemed they might free themselves of their captive brassier.

Solo smiled at her moves, but finally she left him and danced across the floor to entertain the rest of the crowd. The drumming quickened, as did the swiveling of her hips.

She had the crowd under her complete control, a captive audience as it were. They'd been worked up to a near frenzy by her dancing.

The drums came to a sudden stop, as did Aziza; perfectly timed.

The audience rose to their feet, breaking into cheers as they applauded and tossed coins to the floor in front of her to show their appreciation.

Napoleon and Illya did the same and the girl quickly gathered her money before disappearing backstage.

The agents left their table; Solo stuffing the green veil into his jacket pocket as they left the cafe.

"That went well," Kuryakin commented. "A rather unusual way to make a courier drop."

They stepped out to the dusty street, surveying their surroundings to make sure they didn't have a tail.

"And a rather pleasant one I might add," Napoleon smiled.

"How were these arrangements made?"

"Oh Kassim of our North African division heard that I'd ...we'd be making the pickup so he sent one of his best...ahem, couriers."

"She was quite talented," the Russian remarked. "It amazes me the moves that a woman can make with her body, such as she did. I imagine being in bed with one with her talents could make for an... _interesting_ evening."

"Yes it did…"Napoleon smiled. He had a bemused look of satisfaction.

"Wait...you and her?" Illya's jaw dropped."Why then did we have to go through the charade of watching the spectacle of her dance if you met with her already? I presume she made the drop with you then."

"Oh she did, and then some," Solo winked."Now as to the dance; I promised I'd stop by to see her perform before we left. She does it on the side for fun."

"So the veil…"

"Is merely a little souvenier tovarisch." Napoleon pulled it from his pocket, giving it a little sniff before he sighed.

"So you have had the parcel all this time and we could have taken an earlier flight out of here, away from this infernal heat?" Illya huffed.

Napoleon could see his partner becoming a bit red in the face.

"Hey don't get all hot under the collar now."

"Get?" Illya snapped. "You know extreme heat and I do not mix well."

"You enjoyed her dancing didn't you?"

"Well, yes I did."

"Then I rest my case. Now come on, we have a flight for Rome to catch."

The agents hopped into their jeep, with Illya as usual, behind the wheel.

They took off, the tires spinning and sending up a little cloud of sand in their wake.


End file.
